


The Central City Christmas Spectacular

by jujubiest



Series: Barry Loves Harry [6]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Age Difference, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Suicide mention, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmastime in Central City, and Harry has to contend with an ugly sweater party at the West house, mandatory reindeer antlers, and too much eggnog. And then unexpected visitors start dropping out of the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is for people to stop sending me these horrible t-shirts.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sheneya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheneya/gifts), [DanielleBlack1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielleBlack1/gifts), [preussisch_blau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preussisch_blau/gifts).



Barry glances up when Harrison walks in, and then has to do a double take as what he’s wearing registers.

It’s a black t-shirt under a black jacket—so far, no surprises. Except that the black t-shirt has the words “I’m here because you broke something” printed on it in small white letters.

It’s a novelty t-shirt. Harrison Wells is wearing a novelty t-shirt, _voluntarily._

Barry reaches to the side, feeling for his cell phone while refusing to take his eyes off Harrison for even a second, just in case it’s some kind of bizarre indoor mirage. Sadly, before he can get his phone in his hands and get photographic proof of the world ending—because the world is _clearly ending here—_ Harrison is gone, disappearing down the hall toward Cisco’s private workroom.

Barely a minute later, Barry hears footsteps running back down the hall towards the Cortex, and Cisco bursts into the room, looking thunderstruck.

“Did you see—“ he starts, trailing off when Barry nods.

“I can’t believe it,” Cisco says. “I even complimented him on it. And he didn’t even snap at me! All he said was _thank you._ Did you get him that one?”

“No, wasn’t me,” Barry says. “Did you?” Cisco shakes his head.

“Felicity, maybe?” Barry wonders aloud. Cisco shrugs.

“Could be. You should ask her. But like…wow. Of all the shirts to wear, he picks _that_ one? Even when he plays along he manages to be kind of a dick about it, right?”

Barry rolls his eyes.

“You can stop pretending you don’t like him any day now, Cisco.”

“I could do that,” Cisco concedes. “But that’s quitter talk, and I’m no quitter.”

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in Cisco’s lab, Harrison is squinting at a monitor, trying to glare the data into being what he wants it to be. It isn’t working.

At least the shirt experiment had its desired effect, if nothing else he tried in this lab was going to work at all. After much contemplation—and in desperation, having run out of places to put them all—Harrison had decided the best way to deal with the shirts was to play along. He figures if he wears one of them every day for a week or so, the joke will lose its shine and he will finally be left in peace.

Thankfully, Caitlin has more sedate taste than the rest of them, and a strangely on-the-nose sense of sarcastic humor. She gifted him this one just a week ago, and he actually kind of likes it. It certainly is apropos, anyway.

He taps absently on the table, thinking while he waits for yet another simulation to run. The key to novelty is the way exposure shapes human perception. He wonders if he’ll find the t-shirts less inane at the same rate that the others find them less and less comical. He somewhat doubts it…

Harrison freezes, his fingers poised above the table, in mid-tap.

“That’s _it._ ” He can’t believe he never thought of it before. He springs back into motion, typing frantically at the keyboard, adjusting conditions and parameters. After a few minutes he stops, checks his work briefly, and then hits the enter key. He waits, barely breathing, as the single simulated instance runs its course on the screen in front of him.

“Oh my god. That’s it. That’s it! Barry!” He yells, jumping up and heading to the door. He sticks his head out and yells down the hall.

“Barry! Cisco! Caitlin! Anybody! Get down here, I’ve got it! I’ve figured out how he does it!”

* * *

 

Barry leans against the door of Cisco’s lab, listening to Harrison with a mounting tension in his shoulders and a dull headache forming behind his eyes. It’s not that he can’t follow what the other man is saying; it’s more that thinking about the implications of it terrifies him, starts a phantom aching in his lower back that sets his teeth on edge.

“So in reality, Zoom doesn’t move any faster than you, or me, or anyone else can naturally. His “speed” is more of an optical illusion created by what his powers actually _can_ do.”

“Which, again I ask, is…?” Cisco inserts, eyebrows raised. Harrison rounds on him, practically bouncing on his toes at the excitement of having finally, _finally_ found an answer.

“He manipulates time and space _around_ himself. _He_ isn’t going fast. He’s making everything around him slow down, drastically. So he could be walking along at a leisurely pace, but when he uses this power, it looks to us as though he’s running so fast we can’t even really see him, beyond a black blur.”

“So what you’re saying,” Barry cuts in, voice flat, “is that it doesn’t matter how fast I can run, I will _never_ be able to keep up with him. He can just slow me down and stay one step ahead.”

Harrison quiets, the excitement of discovery fading from his eyes.

“Barry,” he says softly. “No…don’t you see? We couldn’t stop him before because we had no idea what he actually _was._ Now that we know the real problem, we can find a solution. In this case, it just may not be you running faster.”

Barry nods reluctantly.

“Okay…so where do we start?”

Harrison looks at Cisco. Cisco looks at Harrison. They both grin.

* * *

 

Three days later, Iris West walks into the Cortex and is greeted with a strange sight: Dr. Wells and Cisco Ramon, both wearing horrifyingly cheesy novelty t-shirts, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning intently over the computer monitor, watching yet another of their anti-Zoom simulations. She grins, shaking her head as she walks over to deposit an armful of packages on the table by Wells’s elbow.

“Barry asked me to drop these off,” she says. “He’s working a case with Joe and Patty and won’t be able to make it to the lab to run tonight.”

Harrison peels himself away from the simulation reluctantly, and Cisco’s curiosity prompts him to follow suit. These aren’t like the usual packages; they’re wrapped in brightly-colored paper, and the one on the top has a bow.

“Early Christmas presents?” Cisco asks, sounding a little jealous. Harrison smirks.

“Guess so. You think Barry would mind if I open them now?”

“I don’t think he meant for you to let them sit here in the lab until Christmas,” Iris quips, smiling. Harrison returns her smile tentatively—he still doesn’t know what he did to make her, of all people, decide to like him—and reaches for the one on top first.

He removes the wrapping carefully, methodically folding it and setting it aside, bow and all, before examining the plain white box underneath. It’s the kind sweaters usually come in, and he has a sinking feeling that instead of stopping the novelty t-shirts from coming, he’s merely graduated to novelty sweaters.

He hopes it’s something plain, maybe in that nice blue Barry seems to like on him so much. Or black, black would be nice. But a look at Iris tells him he’s probably hoping in vain.

“Dare I ask?” He says. Iris shakes her head.

“I promised him I wouldn’t give you any hints. Go on…open it! He said not to wait...he’ll get to see you in it at my party, after all.”

Harrison froze in the midst of pulling the tape off the sides of the box.

“Party?”

“My ugly sweater party! It’s a holiday tradition, and you absolutely have to be there. You too, Cisco.”

“Oh, I’m there,” Cisco says, muffled around the lollipop he’s pulled seemingly out of thin air. “I already got mine, and Caitlin’s too!”

Harrison feels a swell of pity for Caitlin Snow.

“What exactly is an ugly sweater party? Is it anything like a silly hat party?”

Iris and Cisco just stare at him.

“A silly hat party?” Iris asks.

“Yes…it’s something Jesse likes to do,” Harrison says, sounding sad. “She picked it up from one of her friends at school. We all have to wear a silly hat, like a Santa hat, or an elf hat, or reindeer antlers. You decorate them as outrageously as possible, and you have to wear them the whole night, usually for a family gathering. With food.”

He feels like an interdimensional anthropologist. Iris blinks, looking surprised.

“Well…it’s kind of like that. Except instead of silly hats, we wear ugly holiday sweaters. Like this one my dad wore last year…it was red, with a bright green Christmas tree on the front of it with gold puff paint ornaments dotted all over.”

“That’s pretty good,” Cisco says. “But I think Dr. Stein’s tops it…remember the dreidel sweater?”

“Oh _god,_ ” Iris groans. “How could I forget? Dozens of tiny dreidels sewed all over this sweater, front and back. They made so much noise when he moved!”

“And that one kept falling off, and Joe ended up stepping on it,” Cisco reminisces fondly. “Ah…the dreidel sweater. Will it ever be beaten?”

Wells looks from Iris to Cisco and then back to the still-unopened box with trepidation.

“And this is _my_ ugly sweater, I take it?”

“Yep!” Iris chirps happily.

He stares at the box, dread increasing.

“So…go on,” Iris says again, voice coaxing. “Open it! Let’s see what Barry picked for you.”

That twinkle in her eye is making him very nervous, but he does as she says and opens it, smiling a little in spite of himself.

The smile vanishes the moment he unfolds the sweater and sees what’s on it.

“There is no universe in which I would wear this,” he says flatly.

“Oh c’mon,” Cisco argues. “It can’t be that bad. Lemme see.” He grabs the sweater from Wells, spreading it out on the table to read the front…and almost chokes on his lollipop.

It’s dark green, rather a nice color really…but the front of it features large, garish red letters that read: “Dear Santa, All I Want for Christmas is Your Naughty Boys List.”

Cisco cracks up.

“Not wearing it!” Harrison insists.

“Well, there are three other packages there,” Iris says, a note of mischief in her voice. “Maybe you’ll like one of those options better?”

“Uh huh,” Harrison says. “Sure…just as soon as I burn this.”

“Wait!” Cisco grabs for the sweater. “Don’t burn it. I’ll take it…for a friend.”

Harrison eyes him dubiously, but lets it go. As long as he doesn’t have to wear it, he’s happy. He turns his attention to the remaining three packages.

The next one is a white sweater with two big, round, red ornaments on it that says “Balls.” Harrison vetoes that in half a second.

Then there’s “All I Got For Christmas Is This Fugly Sweater.” That’s slightly less awful, but Harrison balks at the word “fugly.” He’s no English professor, and as a scientist he readily understands and embraces the need of language to evolve over time.

“But still,” he tells Iris and Cisco. “There are _limits._ ”

Finally, he’s down to the last package. He unwraps it quickly, eager to get this ridiculous exercise in humiliation over with…and sees, with a disturbing sense of relief, a red sweater with a picture of Grumpy Cat on it. The cat, dour as ever, is wearing a Santa hat. The caption says: “Ho Ho NO.”

Harrison’s mouth twitches.

“I suppose this will do,” he says.

Iris and Cisco applaud, and then Iris gathers up the rest of the shirts. Harrison plucks the “Fugly” sweater from the top of the pile, folding it away with a secretive smirk on his face. Iris raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask. It’s technically his sweater, after all.

And Felicity Smoak deserves some payback.


	2. Giddy up, Riding Reindeer! (AKA It’s Raining Men)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended to post one of these every Thursday, with the last one falling on Christmas Eve. Alas, that's not going to happen because I can't stop writing them and I have no patience. The third and final chapter will most likely be up sometime this weekend! In the meantime, I'd love to hear any ideas anyone has for other things I could write in this silly 'verse.

When Harrison emerges from Cisco’s lab the next morning, he has to stop and blink a few times in the doorway to make sure he’s seeing what he thinks he’s seeing.

Caitlin walks past him, eyes glued to her tablet, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a pair of felt antlers is perched atop her head. Cisco is at his computer as usual, typing away with a lollipop in his mouth. He’s wearing a similar pair.

Barry is on the treadmill, running at a normal human speed for now. And on his head as well…a pair of antlers. These have little gold bells attached, and they jingle with every step.

“Um.” He isn’t sure what question to ask first. Cisco looks up at the sound of his voice, a smile overtaking his face.

“Hey, Harry. Put these on!” He holds out yet another pair, with bells like the ones Barry’s wearing.

“Um. No. Thank you,” Harrison says, turning away. “I need coffee.”

“Oh thank god,” Barry calls from the treadmill. “Coffee—woah!”

Momentarily distracted, Barry loses his footing and flies backwards off the treadmill, crashing into the wall behind him with a painful-sounding thud. Harrison winces. He knows Barry heals incredibly fast, but that looks like it hurt.

“I’m okay!” Barry calls, scrambling to his feet. “I’m fine!” The antlers, Harrison notes with surprise, are still firmly on his head.

“Check it out, Barry,” Cisco calls. “The antlers work!”

Barry reaches up to feel, and then laughs.

“Hey, you’re right! Now I can be fast…and festive!” He looks to Harrison and Caitlin, beaming at his joke. Caitlin bites her lip to keep from laughing. Harrison just raises an eyebrow.

“Really? You plan to _wear_ those when you’re out being the Flash?”

Barry shrugs.

“Why not? Can’t a guy show a little holiday spirit and save the day at the same time?”

Harrison rolls his eyes, but can’t quite stop a smile from coming. He likes this new levity the holiday season has brought to Barry. It’s not something he’s previously seen from him, although he gets the feeling Barry was probably a lot like this… _before._ Before the man masquerading as this Earth’s Harrison Wells happened to him.

He doesn’t like to think about that man. At the same time, he almost wishes he could have met him, face-to-face…if only to ask how he had ever justified his actions to himself.

Shaking his head out of this momentary funk, he turns back toward Cisco.

“And are you really planning on wearing those all day?”

“All day errday till Christmas,” Cisco replies cheerfully.

“Wonderful.”

It’s going to be a long week.

* * *

Barry doesn’t _actually_ plan on wearing the antlers outside of the lab. He wears them when running on the treadmill and testing some of Cisco’s new modifications to the Flash suit…but that’s it.

Until he responds to an alarm sent from a bank vault, and is met with incredulous stares and snickering laughter from Captain Cold, Golden Glider, and Heatwave—or, as he knows them, Leonard and Lisa Snart and their frequent partner in crime, Mick Rory.

“What’s so funny?” He asks. “And…why are you all…wearing Santa hats?”

Lisa tries to contain her giggling, to no avail.

“You’re one to talk,” she says between hiccups of laughter. “What’s on your _head_?”

Barry looks up, uncomprehending…and then raises a hand to feel the antlers still perfectly positioned on his head, over the hood of his suit.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles.

“That’s what I was gonna say,” drawls Leonard.

“Hey now, boys…we’re all wearing festive headgear here, no one’s in a position to judge,” Lisa reminds them. Mick chuckles a little, but quickly schools his face when Len shoots him a dirty look.

“It was my darling _sister’s_ idea,” he grumbles, practically turning “sister” into an expletive.

“They may be big and bad and all that,” Lisa says, patting her brother on the shoulder. “But when it comes down to it, I get what I want.”

“Damn sad puppy eyes,” Mick mutters.

Barry looks from Len, to Lisa, to Mick incredulously. Then there’s a crackling in his earpiece, and a shouted “hey!” from Cisco.

“Barry!” Iris’s voice comes through the earpiece. Apparently she’s commandeered the mic. “As long as you’re standing around chatting with supervillains, could you tell Len and Lisa they’re invited to my ugly sweater party on Christmas Eve? Oh, and Mr. Rory, too, if he’d like to come.”

Barry can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Iris…have you _lost_ your _mind?_ I am _not_ inviting Captain Cold and the Rogues to your ugly sweater party!”

“Oooo, a party!” Lisa trills, sounding excited. “Will Cisco be there? And mistletoe? If there’s Cisco and mistletoe, I’m in.”

“Yes. No!” Barry blurts nonsensically. Len raises an eyebrow at his sister.

“Really, sis? The computer geek?”

“Smart is sexy,” Lisa shoots back. Barry groans.

“Oh my god. This isn’t happening. Yes, Cisco will be there, Lisa. No, you guys are _not_ invited. That’s…that’s crazy.”

“Barry…” Iris warns in his ear. Barry sighs.

“Fine. But if this all goes horribly wrong, you just remember I said this was a bad idea.” He turns to the little cluster of rogues with an air of resignation.

“Len…Lisa…Mick…would you guys like to go to Iris’s ugly sweater party on Thursday night?”

Lisa beams, excited.

“Yes! We accept.” Len makes a noise akin to a growl, and is ignored. Mick looks as resigned as Barry feels.

“Fine. We’ll be there,” Len concedes grudgingly. Then he turns his eyes on Barry, and his sour expression shifts to a leer. “Any chance I could get a ride there, Rudolph?”

The slight emphasis on _ride_ has Barry’s face turning red enough to justify the nickname.

“Snowball’s chance in Hell, Snart,” he grumbles, looking away. Len shrugs.

“Worth a try.”

“Whatever. So…I guess I’ll see you there, then. Dress code is—“

“Ugly sweaters…we got that from the title, thanks,” Len cuts in rudely. Barry scowls. He can already tell this year’s party is going to be _so_ much fun. Not.

“Right. Ooookay, then. Hey…I don’t suppose in the interest of peace on earth and goodwill toward men I could convince you _not_ to rob this bank vault? You can’t exactly attend Iris’s party if you’re all in Iron Heights.”

“Not a chance—“ Len starts, but he’s interrupted by Lisa.

“Just this once,” she says. At Len’s look, she pouts. “Oh, c’mon Lenny…it’s not like we need the money, right? I wanna go to the party!”

As always, Len thaws a little at the sight of his sister. It’s the one thing about him that’s always made Barry think there’s more to him than just the metaphorical ice in his veins. He’d do anything for Lisa…even blow off a bank job for Christmas.

“Sure,” he says, his voice a tiny bit softer than usual. Barely a millisecond later, his usual mask is back in place. He aims a sneer in Barry’s direction. “Guess we’ll see you Thursday…Flash.”

“Guess so.” Barry turns to go. He could swear before he races away he hears Leonard mutter “giddy up, ridin’ reindeer.”

He decides to pretend otherwise.

* * *

When Barry gets back to the lab, he pulls the antlers off and sets them firmly down on the desk beside Cisco.

“Those,” he says, “are dangerous.”

“Oh c’mon, man,” Cisco exclaims. “You just stopped a bank robbery without a fight because of these puppies! Plus, they can stay on your head while you’re running at like, seven hundred miles per hour. Give props!”

“Props,” Barry admits ruefully. “But seriously, what was Iris thinking?” He looks around, ready to ask the woman herself. The Cortex appears empty except for Caitlin and Cisco, however.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Oh, she had to go to work,” Caitlin says, looking up briefly before going back to work herself. Barry has a moment to wonder what it is she’s been looking at so intently all day before it dawns on him.

“Crap. Work! I’m late…gotta run!”

And he’s gone a moment later, just as Harrison emerges from the back room, a cup of coffee in hand and wearing a t-shirt that reads: “Non-Flammable? Challenge Accepted.”

“Was that Barry?”

“Yeah, he just left for work,” Caitlin says absently.

“Oh.” Harrison sounds disappointed. He ambles over to Cisco’s computer and leans against the table, glancing over Cisco’s shoulder at the latest simulation. They’ve been working on different scenarios in which Zoom’s power could possibly be neutralized, rendering his “super speed” irrelevant to a fight and evening the odds. Thus far, nothing they’ve tried has quite worked. Harrison winces as another animated Barry gets ripped in half on the screen in front of him.

“Is it really necessary for these sims to be quite so…graphic?”

“Helps drive home the urgency of the problem,” Cisco mumbles without looking up. “Or…something.”

“Huh.” Harrison sips his coffee thoughtfully.

“So,” he says at length. “This…Leonard Snart guy. What’s his story.”

“Captain Cold,” Caitlin says, also without looking up. “He and his sister like to rob people.”

“And…is there a reason Barry hasn’t put them both in prison?”

“Well, Cold found out Barry’s secret identity,” Cisco explains. “Lis and Rory don’t know it, but Len threatened to out Barry to the whole world if Barry didn’t let him go. They kinda have a thing going.”

“A _thing_?” The tone of Harrison’s voice has Cisco’s head snapping up, eyes wide.

“Oh! No…not like a… _thing._ Just a thing. Like an understanding. Cold keeps Barry’s secret and doesn’t let anyone get hurt when he’s doin’ his _thang,_ and Barry doesn’t get in his way. For the most part.”

“Morally dubious, but thus far effective,” Caitlin adds absently. Harrison looks between the two of them.

“So are they…friends, then?”

Cisco snorts.

“Hardly. Barry has this wacky idea that Cold’s a good person underneath all those criminal impulses.”

“Yeah,” Caitlin murmurs sardonically. “Imagine that.” Cisco blushes.

“Lis is different,” he says.

“Uh-huh. Sure she is.”

"I'm sorry I asked," Harrison grumbles into his coffee cup.

* * *

Barry races through his day—metaphorically speaking. He gets all his paperwork and labs done early, for once, and heads for the door. He has presents to deliver.

He only feels a little guilty about using the Flash suit for this, but really…it’s all in the interest of holiday spirit, right? He zips around Central City, leaving the several gifts he got for Joe and Iris at home first, then something for Captain Singh and his husband, and something for Patty. He drops a small parcel on Linda’s desk at the Central City Picture News office, and then stops for a quick food break before finishing up the longest stretch.

It takes him a little more time to run to Star City and drop presents in the loft for Felicity and Oliver.

Dr. Stein, Jax, Jay, and his dad are supposed to be coming to Iris’s party, along with Cisco and Caitlin, so he buys their gifts last and drops them off back at Joe’s.

Finally, there’s only one thing left to buy. He wants to get something great for Harrison, but he isn’t sure exactly what. He knows what he’d _like_ to give him. He’d like to race through one of those portals to Earth-2 and bring his daughter back here, safe and sound.

Unfortunately, he’s pretty sure that would end in his ass getting righteously kicked, and that’s the best-case scenario.

He zips over to S.T.A.R. Labs and changes back into his real clothes before heading out again, walking toward the downtown area with his hands in his coat pockets and his shoulders hunched against the cold. The night is clear so far, but the air smells like snow.

Several disappointing stores later, he’s still no closer to finding the perfect gift to give to Harry. The streets are nearly deserted and everything’s closing, so he gives up for the night and turns toward home, wondering if it’s cold enough out to keep his feet from catching fire if he decides to run straight home without changing first.

Before he can take a step, there’s a shift in the air above him, a sort of twisting incandescence that he unfortunately knows all too well.

“Oh, crap,” he says to himself. He takes a step forward, bracing for the worst, and a moment later something falls through the wormhole and lands with a heavy _thunk_ on the cold cement below. A body.

Barry approaches cautiously, thinking of all the various meta-humans Zoom has sent through from Earth-2, hell-bent on killing him to earn their passage back home.

This guy doesn’t seem like much of a threat at the moment, though. It’s definitely a man, Barry can see as he gets closer, but he’s not moving. He’s in a gray suit, well-fitted, nicer than the stuff most of the guys at the precinct wear but functional, clearly meant for everyday wear. He’s lying on his stomach, his face hidden from Barry’s view, only the back of his blonde head visible from this vantage point. Something about that head and the suit looks…familiar…

“It…can’t…” he mumbles softly to himself. It really _can’t._ It just isn’t possible. But…he _knows_ that head.

Seized by this sudden, impossible thought, Barry darts forward and grasps the man’s shoulder, turning him over gently, exposing his face to the yellow light of the street lamps. The man groans at the movement, and his voice sends a chill through Barry that has nothing to do with the cold.

He jerks back as though he’s been burned, disbelief etched over his face.

It’s Eddie Thawne.


	3. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who inspired this fic and the 'verse it belongs to, everyone who left kudos and comments, and everyone who just took the time to even read it. I wish you all the happiest of winter holiday seasons, wherever you are and whatever/however you celebrate. I hope you are warm, safe, and surrounded by people who love you.

“Shit. Shit! I thought he was dead!”

“I know—”

“Holy _shit._ He’s _supposed_ to be dead. We _saw_ him die!”

“I know—“

“This is _bad_ , I mean this is _really_ bad. If he’s not dead, that means—“

“Cisco, I _know._ That’s why I brought him here first and called you. And…why I haven’t told Iris yet.”

“Oh, shit,” Cisco says, sounding slightly faint. He looks guiltily from Barry to Caitlin’s hospital bed, where the prone form of Eddie Thawne lies on his back with his eyes closed.

“I don’t _want_ him to be dead,” he clarifies, needlessly. “It’s just…Barry…if _he’s_ here, does that mean…?”

“I don’t know,” Barry says heavily. “It’s possible. He was the only person I saw come out of the rift, but that doesn’t mean nobody else did, either earlier or after I left. I just had to get him off the street, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Okay.” Cisco takes a deep breath, a futile attempt at calming himself somewhat.

“Are we even sure it’s him, though?” He bursts out. “I mean…it could be Earth-2 Eddie, right? There could be another version of him over there who got sent over here, like Harry and Doctor Light.”

“Yeah, I already thought of that,” says Barry wearily. “But Cisco, his _shirt_. I _know_ that shirt, okay? It still has his blood on it! That’s the shirt he was wearing, when…”

“When he shot himself,” Cisco says softly. “Yeah…I remember. Except he obviously hasn’t been shot. Or he’s been healed somehow.”

“Right. And the only thing I can think is that somehow, Eddie got pulled from that day to this one, _after_ he shot himself, and he not only survived a bullet to the heart without so much as a scar, but also made a trip through a wormhole with no time machine, no powers…nothing.”

Cisco just stares at him for a moment, eyes as wide as saucers.

“So…” he says at last. “What do we do with him? Should we maybe call Caitlin?”

“No! Not yet. Caitlin will want to tell Iris, and I…I can’t. At least, not until we know what’s really going on. I mean…he _looks_ like our Eddie, but…he could be our Eddie and _not_ be our Eddie, you know? I mean…how can we be sure?”

“Good point,” Cisco says, realization dawning. “I mean… _he…_ the other Dr. Wells…stole somebody else’s face once before, right? And he told Joe he stole the poor guy’s memories, too. So it’s not like we can just ask him something only Eddie would know when he wakes up.”

As if on cue, Eddie groans, causing them both to jump.

“Barry?” Eddie’s voice is rough, as if with disuse. “What—how did I get here?” Barry moves to the bedside, wary but still wanting to be within reach should Eddie need to be restrained.

“Eddie…hey,” he says awkwardly. “I found you outside on the sidewalk and brought you here. Uh…what exactly do you remember?”

“Nothing,” Eddie wheezes. “Just…I remember…Wells…he was gonna kill you, and I…I couldn’t—“

“You stopped him,” Barry finishes for him, smiling a painful smile. “You saved my life, Eddie. All our lives.”

“Iris…” Eddie breathes. “Is she—“

“Iris is…good…she’s doing really well. She’s missed you a lot.”

“Can I see her?”

Barry grimaces. He was hoping Eddie wouldn’t ask that question right away, but he should’ve known better.

“Hey, we’ll bring Iris here later, okay? Right now, we need to make sure you’re okay. You fell out of…well, a rift in the universe, basically. Do you remember that?”

“No,” Eddie says. “A rift in the _universe_? Do I even want to ask you to explain that to me?”

Barry can’t help but smile. That sounds like the real Eddie to him. Then again, Eobard Thawne was always a master at telling you what you wanted—or needed—to hear at any given moment. He looks across the bed at Cisco, who raises his eyebrows and jerks his head to the side, motioning for Barry to step away with him.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute, okay? Just hang tight.”

They head just beyond the med bay enclosure and lean in close, barely speaking above whispers.

“I think there’s a way I can tell whether that’s really Eddie or not,” Cisco says.

“Great! How?”

“Well…when we were trying to figure out where Wells took Eddie when he kidnapped him that time, I started working on finding his speed signature.”

“Speed signature?”

“Yeah. After the lightning strike, I noticed your cells seemed to vibrate at a very specific frequency, unique to you…because I mean, you were completely unique, or so I thought at the time. When he kidnapped Eddie, I started to wonder if maybe his cells had the same frequency, if maybe we could use that to track him somehow...but when I scanned for the frequency I had on you, I only saw you, so I had to scrap that theory. I tested my new theory when fake-Wells was locked in the Pipeline, and it turns out his cells _also_ vibrate at a specific frequency, but different from yours. So I started working on a program to pinpoint the location of a speedster by scanning for that frequency. And no, before you ask, it won’t work on Zoom…technically not a speedster, remember?”

“Right, okay, so…what, you just check and see if the spot Eddie’s standing in matches Wells’s frequency?”

Cisco glances behind them at Eddie, lying flat on his back with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed as though he’s in pain.

“Well…I dunno about the _standing_ part, but pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay, so let’s do it! Did you finish the program?”

“No, but I still have the files. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours to set it up.”

“Great. You get on that, I’ll stay with Eddie and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere in the meantime.”

* * *

They move Eddie’s bed back to Cisco’s private lab, just in case anyone walks in. Barry finds himself immensely thankful that he convinced Harry to use Joe’s spare room to get some quality sleep…even if Joe seems less than thrilled about the idea. He’s sure he can trust Harry with this, but just the thought of having him here while they’re scanning for the presence of their Dr. Wells makes him feel a little sick, for reasons he’s not sure he wants to examine too closely right now.

It’s quiet back here, if a little crowded, and Barry makes a small space for himself among the clutter and just gets lost in thought for a little while as Eddie sleeps, seemingly exhausted from whatever ordeal landed him here.

He wants _so badly_ to call Iris, wants to think of this as some kind of Christmas miracle. But he knows that even if this is really Eddie Thawne, Eobard could still be back as well. And he doesn’t know how to deal with that.

He wonders if he’ll look like Harrison this time, or like the other guy Barry saw, right before the end. He finds, with some surprise, that if the man’s return is unavoidable he hopes it’s the latter. He doesn’t think he could take having Dark and Light Harrisons standing on either side of him.

When Eddie finally stirs again, he gets him some water and then tries to fill him in on all the things he’s missed in the last few months, being careful to leave out anything he wouldn’t want Eobard Thawne to know—like the existence of Patty Spivot, or the fact that he was recently incapacitated and is still feeling pretty vulnerable.

It’s all very difficult to explain, and at the mention of Harry, Eddie looks particularly dour. Barry can’t help but wonder if that’s because he’s Eddie, thinking of his ancestor who impersonated Wells having a doppelganger…or because he’s Eobard, thinking of another Wells taking his place.

And that thought startles Barry. Has Harry really taken Wells’s place on the team, in their lives?

He thinks of the way Harry looks in a pair of S.T.A.R. Labs sweatpants and a novelty t-shirt, slumping around the Cortex with a cup of coffee, hair sticking straight up, grumbling about everything and nothing. He thinks of Harry in that yellow suit, having to try so hard to be like Eobard, to fool Grodd. Putting himself in danger to save Caitlin’s life.

No, he decides. Harry hasn’t taken Wells’s place, because they’re nothing alike. The way they relate to people is nothing alike.

Wells was encouraging, kind but stern, calculating in his affections. He was a mentor, in a twisted way. A father figure, but to a purpose. He sought out gifted people who felt alone and out-of-phase with the world around them, and made them feel special. Needed. And above all, indebted to _him_ , for giving them a place and a purpose.

Harry, on the other hand, is…well, kind of an ass, most of the time. He’s irritable, antisocial, sarcastic, condescending…but Barry’s learning that a lot of that is intentional, a smokescreen that hides a father’s worry and a wealth of fear.

He’s unexpectedly funny at times, when he lets his guard down for a moment. He and Cisco snipe at each other constantly, but when it’s important they work together almost effortlessly, filling in the gaps in each other’s knowledge and thought processes.

He clearly has a soft spot for Caitlin, but they relate like equals, fellow scientists working together rather than one mentoring the other.

And with Barry…well, he’s definitely _not_ a father figure or mentor in any sense of the word. Barry doesn’t make a habit of kissing his father figures.

This new thing that’s been building between them feels fragile now, something else Eobard could take from him just to revel in his pain.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Eddie whispers from the hospital bed. Barry blinks, attention snapping back to his current surroundings.

“Nowhere,” he says stupidly. Eddie grins.

“I know, you’ve been here. Physically anyway. But where’d you go just now? You were miles away.”

Barry tries to return Eddie’s smile, and fails.

“Sorry. I just…have a lot on my mind.”

That seems to appease Eddie for now, but Barry’s restless, antsy. He hopes Cisco will be done with that speed signature soon.

* * *

Cisco texts Barry an hour later.

_It’s done._

Barry breathes a sigh of relief, and then glances over at Eddie apprehensively. He’s sleeping again.

So far he could _swear_ it’s really Eddie. He talks like Eddie, smiles like Eddie. He hasn’t tried anything, hasn’t insisted on seeing Iris or even offered to move from his bed. But Barry can’t shake the fear that it might all be an act, and he’s not letting his guard down until Cisco tells him for certain that it’s Eddie Thawne lying in that bed, and not someone else.

Barry gets up quietly and heads to the Cortex. Cisco’s at the main computer, and he gestures excitedly for Barry to join him.

“Okay,” he says in a slightly hushed tone. “So I’ve finished the program and set it to scan for Thawne’s speed signature. Thing is, it’s not really meant for long-range use.”

He hands Barry what looks like a very sleek supermarket barcode scanner.

“You’ll have to pass this over him. It’ll send the readings directly to the computer in real time.”

“And then we’ll know for sure?”

“Yeah. Then we’ll know for sure.”

Barry takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

They head back to Cisco’s lab, practically tiptoeing. Eddie’s exactly where Barry left him and apparently still sleeping, eyes closed, breathing slow and even.

Barry approaches the bed with caution; Cisco hangs back by the door, gripping the door jamb and looking ready to bolt. Barry knows how much the thought of Thawne still scares him, so he doesn’t raise an eyebrow.

He stops by the bedside, searching Eddie for any signs of consciousness before he passes the device over him quickly, once, twice. Eddie doesn’t stir.

Barry looks back at Cisco, who shrugs and jerks his head in the direction of the Cortex. Barry backs out of the room slowly, then follows Cisco at a brisk walk back to the Cortex to check the computers.

Cisco checks the readings, comparing them to the speed signature he had on file for Eobard Thawne. Then he checks it again, just to be sure.

He looks at Barry with an unreadable expression on his face.

“It’s him,” he says softly. “It’s really Eddie… _our_ Eddie.”

* * *

Harrison looks up at a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he says, setting aside the book he’s been reading. Literature seems to be one of the ways in which the two Earths differ greatly, and he finds that reading the cultural mythology of this world is both fascinating and soothing, allowing him to quiet his brain and calm down enough to grab a few hours of sleep.

The West household is chock full of books of every kind, from Barry’s scientific tomes and sci-fi novels and Iris’s extensive collection of literary fiction, to Joe West’s somewhat amusing penchant for dime store murder mysteries, Westerns, and spy stories. At the moment, he’s reading a somewhat disturbing story about a group of teenagers on a ski trip being hunted by a serial murderer.

The door opens, and Harrison can’t help the small smile that flickers onto his face when he sees that it’s Barry.

“Hey, Harry,” he says, slipping inside and shutting the door quietly behind him. “Sorry to bother you this late, I just…”

Harrison’s smile fades. Barry looks tired, but there’s something else about his eyes, something that goes deeper than mere exhaustion. It’s a haunted hollowness, an uncertainty when he looks at Harrison that he hasn’t seen since Barry first laid eyes on him, and it twists his gut into a knot immediately.

“Barry,” he says, sitting up and crossing his legs in front of him. “Come here…what is it?”

Barry crosses the room in a few short, quick steps and sits heavily at the foot of the bed, looking at him with eyes full of fear and questions.

“Is it really you?” He whispers. “How do I know for sure, how can I _ever_ know for sure that it hasn’t been _him_ this entire time, just playing with me? Same rules, brand-new messed up game?”

“Barry, I—“ Harrison begins, stricken, but Barry rushes on without letting him finish.

“Because if it’s not you, Harry, if you turn out to be someone else all over again…this time I don’t think I can take it. I won’t be okay. I won’t learn to trust people again. I won’t recover.”

His voice breaks, and Harrison doesn’t know what brought this on or how to fix it, but he reaches out tentatively and brushes Barry’s shoulder with a hand, not pulling, not urging…just offering.

The next thing he knows, Barry’s in his arms, face buried in his neck, a warm huff of breath raising goosebumps all down his back when Barry lets out a sad, helpless little ghost of a laugh.

“Barry,” he says softly. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“You never know what to say,” he replies, voice muffled. “I’m glad. He always knew what to say and I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone again who does, not really.”

Harrison closes his eyes and spares a moment to hate Eobard Thawne just a little harder than usual.

“I’m sorry. Will you tell me what happened?”

Barry draws back to lean against the headboard beside him, nothing but their sides touching. He takes a deep breath.

“Earlier tonight I was out Christmas shopping, and Iris’s dead fiancée fell out of a rift. Except…he’s alive.”

Harrison doesn’t react loudly or dramatically, which is one of the many things Barry loves about him. He does raise his eyebrows a little.

“The one who died to stop Thawne,” he says. No one’s ever laid out the entire story for him, but he’s pieced most of it together from the horrifying little details he’s picked up here and there from each member of the team. Eddie Thawne, the ancestor who had courageously chosen to die rather than let Thawne kill the people he cared about. Although apparently, he isn’t dead after all…and Harrison can understand why that would leave Barry shaken.

He presses just the slightest bit closer to Barry’s side, a gesture meant to say _I’m here…I’m me._

“Are you sure it’s really your Eddie? I don’t know of an Eddie Thawne from my world, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

But Barry was already shaking his head.

“No…it’s our Eddie…he was wearing the clothes he died in. There was blood all over his shirt from the gunshot wound…but there’s no wound. He’s fine. And…Cisco managed to rig up this thing that can prove it’s really Eddie, and not—“

He breaks off abruptly, unable to say the name. But Harrison’s attention leaps to the part about Cisco and his proof.

“A way to prove it’s really Eddie? How did he accomplish that?”

Barry shrugs. “It’s basically a fancy barcode scanner…but it scans for what Cisco calls a speed signature. It has to do with the rate of our cells’ vibration. I scanned Eddie with it, and Cisco saw that his cells vibrate at a normal, human rate. He’s not a speedster.”

“I see,” Harrison says. He sits silently for a few moments, considering. Then:

“Would you like to use this device to scan me, Barry?”

“What? No!” Barry says, surprised.

“I’ll understand if you do. You’ve been betrayed by a man with my face before. Now, I know I’m not that man. But you haven’t known me that long. You can’t see into my mind and know for sure that what I’m saying is the truth. If it’s necessary for your peace of mind, I would never begrudge you that.”

This is the hardest part of this tenuous thing they’ve been forging between them over the last several weeks…the knowledge that they’re not starting from scratch, that there’s already so much history and fear there, attached to his name and his voice and his face. So much damage left behind, so many mistakes made by someone else that he now has to pay for, an inherited debt that is as unavoidable as it is unfair.

It’s difficult, knowing that no matter what he does, Harrison will never be completely trusted…not because Barry doesn’t _want_ to trust him, but because some things are just broken beyond one man’s ability to repair.

But Barry is shaking his head.

“No…I don’t need to scan you to know you’re not him. I just…I need to know that he’s not out there somewhere, too. I don’t want to wonder, every time I walk in a room, for that split second before I see your face, whether he’s kidnapped you or killed you, and tried to take your place.”

Harrison offers Barry a small, grim smile.

“Well…I think I know a way we can find out for you. I’ll start working on it with Cisco first thing tomorrow.  But right now you should probably go to your room and get some sleep. I don’t particularly relish the notion of explaining to your foster father why you’re curled up in bed with me in the morning.”

Barry returns his smile, but doesn’t move to leave. Instead, he insinuates himself under Harrison’s arm, burrowing into his side like a cat. Harrison gives up and moves to accommodate him, wrapping an arm lightly around his shoulders.

“You can hold me tighter than that if you want,” Barry says softly. “And don’t worry…I’ve got a lifetime of sensing the approach of Joe under my belt, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but can make a super quick getaway when I need to.”

Harrison snorts softly, shaking his head. He pulls Barry more firmly against his side and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Go to sleep, Barry.”

Barry complies, and before long Harrison follows suit.

* * *

Barry wakes slowly the next morning, a slight smile on his face. They’ve moved in the night, slid down from their position propped against the headboard to lie front-to-back. Harrison’s arms curl around him almost protectively, and puffs of warm breath stir the hairs on the back of his neck, making him shiver.

This level of intimacy is new for them, their previous interactions mostly involving backhanded attempts at flirting and quick kisses that are both unpremeditated and undiscussed after the fact. Barry wonders if this will be something that they discuss.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does lean harder into the warm body pressed against his back, turning his head to nuzzle into Harrison’s cheek.

Someone clears their throat, and Barry’s eyes fly open.

Iris is standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and a little smile fighting its way onto her face. She raises an eyebrow at Barry’s panicked expression.

“Comfy?” She mouths. Barry nods sheepishly. He can’t imagine what she must be thinking right now…how messed up this situation is, probably.

“Dad’s downstairs making breakfast,” she says quietly. “I told him I’d wake you both up. Good thing, too, or your body pillow there would probably catch a bullet.”

Barry grimaces.

“Don’t say anything?” He pleads. “Please, Iris? Just for a little while? I’ll tell him, I swear, I just…need a little time to figure out what to say.”

“I can only imagine,” she says, conceding. “Alright. But get downstairs quick. If he comes up here looking for you, I can’t be held responsible.”

And she’s gone, closing the door firmly behind her. He listens to her footsteps retreating down the stairs, and then turns in Harrison’s arms to look at his face.

“So you’re awake,” he says, taking in the tense set of his jaw and the furrow between his brows. Harrison opens his eyes in answer, and offers Barry a small, somewhat reluctant smile.

“Unfortunately. Shall we join the Wests for breakfast?” He moves to extricate himself from Barry, but Barry hangs on.

“Wait,” he says. He feels unaccountably anxious, like this could be the end of whatever is between them if he doesn’t say exactly the right thing in this moment.

“Do you have a problem with me telling Joe?”

Harrison looks surprised, but settles back into Barry’s arms and just looks at him, considering.

“No,” he says after a moment. “But I can only imagine he won’t take it well. I know how I would react if my kid told me she was dating someone twice her age.”

Barry wrinkles his nose.

“I’m not a kid,” he reminds Harrison, only a little defensively. “And Joe won’t like it, but he never likes anyone Iris or I date at first. He gets over it eventually.”

“Barry—“ Harrison starts, clearly ready to argue the point. Barry leans in and presses a quick kiss to his lips, effectively cutting his naysaying off at the source.

“No, trust me on this,” he says. “Please. Joe won’t like it, but eventually, once he sees that I’m happy, he’ll accept it. Anyway…I think he’ll have other stuff on his mind, at least for a little while.”

“Are you going to tell them about Eddie?”

“Not right now,” Barry says. “Tonight, at Iris’s party. Sort of a…Christmas miracle, for Iris.”

Harrison nods.

“Okay then. Let’s go to breakfast before Joe comes looking for either one of us.”

“Yeah. Don’t want my favorite body pillow riddled with holes,” Barry quips. Harrison sniffs disdainfully and playfully shoves Barry away. He goes willingly, laughing.

“Body pillow,” Harrison mutters, shaking his head.

* * *

After possibly the most tense and awkward West-Allen breakfast Barry has ever experienced, he and Harrison head to S.T.A.R. Labs together. Cisco, it turns out, is already in the Cortex, trying to calm an increasingly hysterical Caitlin.

“Caitlin, it’s _fine—_ “

“It’s _not_ fine,” she yells, throwing up her hands. “How could it be fine?! I’m glad Eddie’s alive, don’t get me wrong, but in what _universe_ is the possibility that Dr. Wells is also alive even remotely in the vicinity of _fine_?!”

“And here I thought she was starting to like me,” Harrison mumbles, causing Caitlin to jump and round on the two of them.

“First of all, you know I don’t mean you. I _am_ starting to like you, although now I’m rethinking that course of action because I cannot _believe_ neither of you called me about this!”

Barry holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Woah, hey…Caitlin, that’s not his fault. Or Cisco’s. Harry wasn’t even here, he didn’t know anything about any of this until late last night, after we left the lab. And Cisco _wanted_ to call you—“

“He’s right, I did,” Cisco put in.

“—but I asked him not to.”

“But…why?” Now Caitlin just looks hurt, and it cuts Barry to the core because of all the people in his life, Caitlin has probably been hurt the most by Eobard Thawne, and the last thing Barry ever wants is to add to that pain.

“Because,” he says gently. “I was scared it might not even really _be_ Eddie…I wanted to make sure it was before I told anyone. I was going to tell you first thing, I swear…you just beat me here, that’s all.”

She seems a little placated by that.

“Well, it would have been nice to hear from you first,” she says, a little huffily. “But I guess that’s fine.”

“We’re good?” Barry asks. Caitlin smiles.

“Yes…we’re good, Barry.” She still seems sad, and Barry fully intends to talk to her about what else is bothering her later…but right now they’re on a clock.

“Okay…so…I guess the next step is to figure out how we can make sure Eobard Thawne hasn’t come back somehow as well.”

“Right,” Harrison puts in. “And I think I might have an idea how to do that. Cisco…your scanner…we need to find some way to amplify its range so that it can cover a larger distance. Say…all of Central City.”

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Harry,” Cisco says sarcastically. “Only one problem: I’ve already thought of it, and there’s no way. I’d have to completely re-engineer the thing and we don’t have that kinda time.”

“Um…actually,” Caitlin says. “I think I might be able to help.”

* * *

Two hours later, they’re on the roof of S.T.A.R. Labs, adjusting what looks like a giant satellite dish.

“So why did you build this thing again?” Barry grunts as he shoves it into place.

“Better question, _how_ did you build this thing?” Cisco asks. “Last I checked you were a geneticist, not an engineer.”

“Well it’s not as though I work with one every day or have the capacity to learn new things, is it?” Caitlin says primly. “A little more to the left, Barry.”

Barry groans, but complies.

“Okay,” Harrison says, when it’s finally in place. “Now, it’s basically like using an adapter. We’ll plug your scanner into the back, here.” He clicks it into place, and the control panel on the back lights up.

Caitlin checks her tablet, then looks up at Harrison with an excited smile.

“It’s working!”

“Good. This should amplify the scanner’s range to the limits of Central City.”

“And what if Eobard’s _outside_ Central City?” Barry wonders aloud, voicing the thing they’ve all been trying _not_ to think about.

“If everything you’ve told me about this man is true, Barry, he’ll want revenge. He’ll be where you and your loved ones are, and that’s here.” Harrison voice is heavy with the disgust he feels for his doppelganger.

“Anyway, the power consumption of this device is negligible,” Caitlin points out. “So we can leave it running all the time if we need to, and we’ll be able to tell anytime Thawne—or any other speedster—enters the city limits!”

“Now _that_ could come in handy,” Barry says.

“Okay, so what’re we waiting for?” Cisco pipes up. “Let’s power up the SpeedScope!”

“SpeedScope?” Caitlin asks, raising an eyebrow. Cisco grimaces.

“I’m workin’ on it.”

Harrison rolls his eyes and flips the switch.

* * *

When Cisco and Caitlin arrive at the West house, the party is already in full swing. Iris answers the door with a smile on her face and a tell-tale glow in her cheeks, ushering them inside and offering them each a massive mug of eggnog.

“Hi, guys! Come on in! Oh my god, Caitlin, I love that sweater. Is Barry with you? He’s in so much trouble, he was supposed to be here early to help me set up, but I haven’t been able to reach him!”

“Oh, he’s on his way,” Cisco says, hanging up his coat and revealing his own ugly sweater, which he feels is at least somewhat uglier than Caitlin’s. “He said he had a last-minute gift to pick up.”

“Right!” Caitlin says. “I’m sure he and Dr. Wells will be here any minute now!”

Iris raises her eyebrows at that.

“Mhmm,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “I’m sure they will.” And then she’s off, heading toward where Patty is standing awkwardly in the corner, half-hidden behind the West’s massive Christmas tree.

Cisco and Caitlin exchange an alarmed look. _Does she know?_ Cisco mouths. Caitlin shrugs and shakes her head. It’s been obvious to them for a while now that there’s something going on between Harrison and Barry, but neither has said anything because they figured the two weren’t advertising it. At least, not intentionally.

Cisco makes a mental note to find out more about what Iris knows before he’s distracted by a gleam of golden hair.

“Lis!” He calls, practically bouncing across the room to stop in front of his favorite Snart…well, the only Snart he likes at all, really. She’s wearing a brilliant red sweater with a giant golden Christmas angel on the front of it. Cisco has only a moment to feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s covered in actual tiny golden bells before he’s pulled forward with a clamorous jingle, eggnog sloshing precariously in its festive snowman mug.

“Cisco!” She says, beaming, and then plants her lips on his without further preamble. Cisco goes with it, half-laughing into the kiss, before pulling back to look at her with shining eyes.

“What was that for?”

Lisa looks up.

“Tradition,” she says. “Iris has the whole house booby-trapped.”

Cisco follows her gaze to see a sprig of mistletoe tied with a gold ribbon hanging from the ceiling above their heads. He grins.

“I love traditions,” he says.

From the doorway, Caitlin watches them with a wistful smile. Figuring Cisco will be occupied for the foreseeable future, she downs most of the eggnog in one gulp and then decides to head to the kitchen. _Maybe a few drinks will help me get into the holiday spirit._

In the kitchen, Joe is wearing a full-on Santa suit and staring down an impassive Leonard Snart as Jay and Mick look on worriedly.

“Should we say something?” Jay whispers. Mick shakes his head vigorously; he’s just glad Joe doesn’t seem to recognize him as readily as Len, especially without his usual getup on. It’s amazing how well a hideously fuzzy Rudolph sweater and a clean shave will do for a disguise, it really is.

When Iris and Patty walk in five minutes later, they nearly run into Caitlin, who’s just frozen there in the doorway, watching the two men’s epic stare-off with wide eyes.

“Seriously, you two?” Iris giggles. “Somebody blink already. Dad, get Len some hot cocoa. He’s a guest.”

“He’s a criminal,” Joe shoots back without breaking his stare.

“He’s technically innocent until proven guilty. And _tonight,_ ” Iris insists in a warning tone, “he’s our guest. Hot cocoa, now. Oh, Patty, has anyone gotten you a drink yet?”

Patty shakes her head, also staring at Leonard Snart with recognition beginning to dawn in her eyes. Iris is just questioning the wisdom of inviting her—since apparently neither Barry or her dad have bothered to fill the poor girl in yet—when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” She trills, placing her half-empty mug of eggnog on the table and retreating from the room. Just before they disappear from her line of sight, she sees Joe unfreeze and turn to fill a mug with hot cocoa. She heads to the door grinning from ear to ear.

When she opens the door, her smile falls.

The world slows down.

She’s dreaming. She has to be.

Because it can’t be him. He can’t be _here_ , standing on her doorstep with tired eyes and smiling down at her like that. He just can’t be.

She opens her mouth to tell him he can’t be here, and no sound comes out.

“Iris,” he says, and she grips the door frame for support, needing something solid to hold herself up.

A second later, she decides she doesn’t want to be held up and practically falls forward into his arms.

“Eddie,” she gasps out finally, the power of speech apparently returned to her here, in his arms, where she’s always felt so loved and _safe._

“Hi,” Eddie half-laughs, half-mumbles into her hair. The sound of that one word in his voice is the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard. She holds him tighter, and when she opens her eyes she sees Barry standing there in the snow behind Eddie, his face alight with joy for her. Harrison Wells is at his elbow, looking rumpled and self-conscious and, cautiously, happy.

Iris pulls back reluctantly and looks Eddie in the face, still trying to make his presence here make sense somehow. It doesn’t. She looks to Barry for answers and he shakes his head, shrugs: he doesn’t know either. But he looks so unabashedly happy that she lets herself believe that it’s good.

It’s a miracle the universe cooked up just for her, and she’s not going to worry about how, at least not tonight.

She pulls Eddie inside, ushering Barry and Harrison in after him. She keeps one hand on Eddie’s arm, unwilling to part with him for even a moment, afraid he might disappear if she does. She shuts the cold out behind her front door, and turns to stop Barry before he walks too far into the house.

“Dad’s in the kitchen serving hot cocoa to Heatwave and Captain Cold,” she whispers. Barry’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“You need me to play referee?”

Iris shakes her head.

“I’m sure we can keep them from attacking each other for a few minutes. I don’t know how you did it, Barry, but thank you.”

She leans up on her toes and plants a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers, looking up.

And then she’s heading for the kitchen, Eddie in tow, and Barry can hear her saying “Dad, you’ll never _believe_ what Santa Claus brought me.”

He turns to Harrison, grinning, but Harrison is looking at the ceiling, at the spot Iris had been looking just before she stepped away. Barry does the same, and sees the sprig of mistletoe, tied with a red ribbon. He grins.

“So,” he says, stepping in a little closer. “Eddie’s alive, Iris is happy. Joe is serving hot cocoa to career criminals in our kitchen. And there’s been no sign of Eobard Thawne anywhere in Central City. It looks like we’re safe.”

“Yes,” Harrison says, smiling sadly down at him. “Some of us are. At least for now.”

Barry’s smile falters.

“Harry. I thought a lot about what to get you, and the only thing I could think of that you’d want is something I can’t really do right now.”

He shuffles just that little bit closer, right into Harrison’s space and body heat. His hands come up almost automatically to hold Barry there, near to him, and for once Barry forgets to worry that Joe or someone else might walk in and see. He’s in his own little world here, just him and Harrison.

“But I promise you…I’ll do everything I can…every single thing within my power, and then some, to get her back for you.”

“You know, she would really like you, my Jessie,” Harrison whispers, voice gone husky with emotion. He huffs a laugh that sounds like it’s keeping tears at bay. “Maybe too much.”

Barry smiles adoringly at him, and leans in to press a soft kiss to his mouth. Harrison returns the press of lips readily, seemingly as willing as Barry to just forget for a moment that there’s anyone but them in the entire world. They both let the kiss linger, reluctantly pulling back after a still, perfect moment.

“Now let’s go see if we can help Iris talk Joe and Patty out of arresting a trio of rogues on Christmas Eve,” Barry says softly.

* * *

Outside in the snow, a tall blonde man in a dark coat watches the merry gathering through the window. A melancholy smile plays on his face at the sight of them all together, eerily similar to the quiet grin gracing the lips of the man who now carries the name of Harrison Wells instead of him.

They look so happy, together and protected from the cold by the sturdy walls of Joe West’s home. They look like a family—a strange hodgepodge of a family, perhaps, but a family nonetheless. He remembers what it felt like to be a part of that warmth. He misses it, terribly.

But that’s all over for him now, he knows. He can’t repair the damage he’s done. He can’t even apologize. No amount of apologies will bring Barry’s mother back, or erase the years of pain and loneliness the boy endured because of his actions. No one in this world will ever forget what he did, what he was. There is no forgiveness here for him, and strangely…he finds he’s made his peace with that.

The Speed Force gave him a rare gift: a second chance, and not just that, but new abilities. The thing he’s always wanted, and things he’s never even dreamed of doing…they’re all within his grasp now. And he may be a lot of things, but he is not a fool. He won’t waste it.

But before he leaves Central City—and this section of the past—forever, he wanted to try one more time to do right by these people he’s hurt so much. He wanted to find a way to give back at least one of the things he took from them.

So he gave them this: one night of perfect peace, of joy. One life restored. One broken heart mended.

It wasn’t easy, but he did it. He found a way. And it feels damn good.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Allen,” he murmurs softly.

Then, in the space between seconds, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Caitlin seems very sad in this...there's a reason for it and I'm contemplating exploring it in a one-shot later, it just didn't quite fit into the main plot of this fic, sadly.


End file.
